


All is fair (in love and war)

by ylc



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate scene from The Final Problem, Angst, Episode: s04e03 The Final Problem, Getting Together, Hurt No Comfort, Love Confessions, M/M, although it'll have a happy ending, or at least a hopeful one
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-24
Updated: 2017-01-27
Packaged: 2018-09-19 13:50:53
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,342
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9444017
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ylc/pseuds/ylc
Summary: Sherlock assumed the coffin was for a woman due the height.But John would fit in there, wouldn't he?A retell from the "I love you" scene. (And from that point on).“It seems we’ve reached an impasse,” Eurus comments, almost off handedly and Sherlock turns to her once more, narrowing his eyes. “Well then, this is how it’ll go: that someone is about to die in 3 minutes exactly. Unless, of course, he says the magic words.”“He?” Sherlock asks, a bit breathlessly and Eurus pouts.“Oh, I gave you a clue!” she exclaims, falsely upset. “I wasn’t supposed to do that,” she continues, sticking out her lower lip a bit more. “Well. It is what it is, I suppose,” she adds mockingly and John’s heart constricts painfully in his chest, remembering the last time he and Sherlock embraced.He closes his eyes. He had gotten so good at pretending-“Go ahead, Sherlock. Make him say the words.”





	1. Fair

**Author's Note:**

> So… this.  
> I’ve spent far too much time on tumblr (like most of us, I’m sure), reading a ridiculous amount of fix-its, seeing fanart and generally attempting to soothe my poor shipping heart. I’m pretty disappointed (again, as most of us) but overall I don’t think the episode is horrible (or rather, the idea isn’t horrible) it’s just rushed as hell.  
> That being said… well. The “I love you” scene frustrated me to no end for reasons I’d rather not write here (it’s a very long ramble) but then I saw these gifs of the scene (I can’t find the damn post now, of course) and John’s face during it and well… here we are.  
> It’s not a fix-it because… well, I don’t think I’m really fixing a damn thing, but it’s an exercise in self torture and I like those. You know me; I’d love anything that can make my shipper heart ache (in the good way. Not like TFP)  
> So, without further ado… enjoy?

“Coffin. Problem: someone is about to die. It will be- as I understand it- a tragedy.”

Sherlock is busy examining the coffin, John is busy trying to keep his temper under check. He knows he’s powerless to stop Eurus’ twisted game and that, of course, sits ill with him but there’s nothing to be done. Unlike with Moriarty, he knows this time they actually have to play.

He takes a deep breath, quickly looking away from Sherlock. Who is he kidding? Even if their lives (and of those poor bastards on the damn plane) weren’t at stake, Sherlock would be playing.

He doesn’t know how to walk away from a puzzle.

“So many days not lived, so many words unsaid. Etcetera, Etcetera, Etcetera.” John takes another breath. God, the woman certainly knows how to get on people’s nerves. This isn’t good, not one bit-

“Yes, yes, and this- I presume- will be their coffin.”

“Whose coffin, Sherlock? Please, start your deductions. I will apply some context in a moment.”

Watching Sherlock work has always been a secret joy of his, even when the situation is dire. His heart is beating entirely too loudly, but that doesn’t seem to matter right now. Even if his heart decides to give up on him, John doesn’t think it’ll be much of a loss since it’s likely he (they) won’t live to see the light of another day.

Sherlock spins deductions and from the corner of his eye, John watches Mycroft approaching the coffin lid. John’s heart picks up speed, although he doesn’t know why: so far Eurus’ games haven’t really involved anyone  _ close _ to them, but-

“Yes, very good Sherlock. Or we could just look at the name on the lid.”

John closes his eyes briefly, mentally preparing himself for what is to come. Somehow, he knows he’s not going to like what’s on the plate. “Only it isn’t a name.”

I LOVE YOU.

The words taunt John and he forces himself to look away. Ridiculous, sentimental. Why would the words affect him so? 

He spares a quick glance in Sherlock’s direction. “So, it’s for somebody who loves somebody.”

“It’s for somebody who loves Sherlock,” Mycroft says, sending a pointed look in John’s direction, although the doctor doesn’t think it really means anything. He turns back to his brother and John finds himself breathing a little easier, eyes carefully glued to the back of his  _ friend’s _ head. “This is all about you. Everything here.”

John almost laughs at that. Everything is always about Sherlock. Always.

“So, who loves you? I’m assuming it’s not a long list.”

John’s heart has picked up speed once more and now he’s actually praying it’ll give up on him. He remembers the text from the other day, the way Irene’s ringtone resonated around the flat. He had thought he would never hear the hateful sound again, that he would never again feel that awful feeling at the bottom of his stomach whenever Sherlock’s phone rang and yet-

“Irene Adler,” he suggests, because it’s a logical deduction. If Sherlock loves her, she would be a fool if she didn’t love him back.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Sherlock scoffs. “Look at the coffin. Unmarried, practical about death, alone.”

John suddenly feels dizzy. Sherlock assumed the coffin was for a woman due the height, but now that he thinks about it-

He looks at the coffin. He’d fit there, wouldn’t he? But surely-

Unmarried.  _ A widow.  _ Practical about death.  _ Well, it’s not like there would be many people missing him, would it?  _ Alone.  _ See reason above. _

Oh god. Oh dear god.

Mycroft is looking at him, a pained expression on his face. He hurries to look away, looking at Sherlock instead, but looking in his friend’s direction means looking in Eurus’ direction and the woman’s mad smile tells him everything he needs to know.

Oh god, oh god.

“You’ve figured it out, Dr. Watson?” Eurus asks cruelly, a crazed smirk on her lips. Sherlock turns around to face him, a mighty frown on his face. “Come on, tell Sherlock. The poor thing will never figure it out on his own.”

John pursues his lips, refusing to play the game this time. He hasn’t allowed himself to think about  _ that _ it ages, he’s not about to start now. “No?” Eurus asks, sounding disappointed. “What about you, big brother? Will you shed some light on our little puzzle?”

Mycroft spares a quick glance in John’s direction, before shaking his head once. Eurus smirks, but Sherlock looks honestly confused. John closes his eyes, willing himself not to panic but he fails miserably.

“It seems we’ve reached an impasse,” Eurus comments, almost off handedly and Sherlock turns to her once more, narrowing his eyes. “Well then, this is how it’ll go: that someone is about to die in 3 minutes exactly. Unless, of course, he says the magic words.”

“He?” Sherlock asks, a bit breathlessly and Eurus pouts.

“Oh, I gave you a clue!” she exclaims, falsely upset. “I wasn’t supposed to do that,” she continues, sticking out her lower lip a bit more. “Well. It is what it is, I suppose,” she adds mockingly and John’s heart constricts painfully in his chest, remembering the last time he and Sherlock embraced.

He closes his eyes. He had gotten so good at pretending- 

“Go ahead, Sherlock. Make him say the words.”

Sherlock still looks confused, like he’s still not getting it. “How-?”

“Oh, I don’t know!” Eurus exclaims, frustrated now. “You would think that telling him he’s going to be a very dead doctor if he doesn’t would be incentive enough but look at him: clinging to his ridiculous sense of pride.”

Sherlock’s eyes widen and John cringes. Oh god, how did this happen?

Moriarty’s video starts playing, the tick-tock sounds driving John insane. He clenches his jaw, eyes closed stubbornly. As if keeping his eyes closed would make the whole scene disappear. “John,” Sherlock murmurs, sounding  _ wrecked  _ and John shakes his head furiously. No, he doesn’t get to sound like he’s the one being skinned alive. No. That’s not fair at all!

He opens his eyes, glaring at Sherlock, but his gaze loses heat the moment their eyes actually met. Sherlock looks utterly devastated, eyes very wide, jaw hanging slack. “John,” he repeats pleadingly and John shakes his head once more. “John, please.”

“I can’t,” he murmurs brokenly, looking away once more. “Please don’t make me do it.”

“John-”

“Well, it’s of course entirely up to you!” Eurus comments cheerly. “But you’re going to die if you don’t,” she adds, glancing at something at her back. “Two minutes.”

“John!” Sherlock exclaims once more, his name apparently the only word he knows. “Please,” he repeats and John bites his lip harshly. 

“No,” he says, shaking his head once more. “No. Not like this.”

“John, please. There’s no other way-”

“No,” he repeats, heart on his throat, threatening to choke him. God, what he’d give for that to happen right now. “I can’t. Don’t do this to me. Don’t make me say it. I can’t- not now, _ not like this _ .”

“You’re not going to get another chance later, though,” Eurus comments merrily. “Tick-tock, Johnny boy!”

The nickname rattles his nerves, but he ignores her, his eyes fixed on Sherlock. “John, please. If what she says is true, if you- if by some miracle you-” he shakes his head once more and Sherlock closes his eyes, looking lost. When he opens them again though, he looks deadly determined and John’s treacherous heart skips a beat.

Now is not the time for this!

“Alright, I’ll say it first,” Sherlock declares confidently and John has to hold back a pained whimper. “John Watson I-, I’ve always- I’m not good at this,” he says lamely, shaking his head, looking desperate and frustrated with himself. “John, I- remember when we said goodbye last time?”

“Sherlock-” it’s John’s turn to plead, but Sherlock shakes his head stubbornly this time.

“What I meant to say- What I’ve always meant to say-”

“Sherlock, please don’t-”

“I love you.”

The words feel like a stab and John’s legs give up on him, making him collapse on the cold floor. Oh god, this can’t be happening to him. He wants- god, a part of him is just  _ so angry.  _ Now. Of all times, now is when Sherlock decides-

He wants to hit him. But then, that seems to be his go-to reaction whenever Sherlock dares to act  _ human.  _ Whenever he’s vulnerable, whenever he’s hurting-

God, he’s a horrible friend. How can Sherlock love him?

“Thirty seconds,” Eurus announces, her tone calm but with a hint of amusement. John hates her as he hasn’t hate anyone before. 

“How can you?” he asks brokenly and Sherlock just looks at him desperately, his expression raw and open and John wants- he wants-

“Ten. Nine. Eight-”

“I love you.”

“And we have a winner!” Eurus chippers animatedly. John catches a glimpse of Mycroft, who’s glaring at his sister and looking like he’s about to be sick, but most of his attention remains on Sherlock, who is staring at him brokenly.

God. What has he done?

_ It wasn’t supposed to be like this. _

“Well now, gentlemen. On with the next challenge!” Eurus exclaims, completely ignoring how absolutely wrecked John and Sherlock are. “Oh, do put yourselves together,” she says after a beat, sounding annoyed. “I need you at peak efficiency. The next one isn’t going to be so easy.”

John and Sherlock share a look, the first nodding stiffly.

_ Later,  _ the look promises.

Later they’ll have to talk.

They’ve been postponing this conversation for far too long.


	2. Lost battles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The well scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Damn. I shouldn’t have done this. It’s not like I need another WIP, really.
> 
> Of course “Hopeless” is technically done and “Lessons in romance” is supposed to be my to-go fic when I’m sad but- I do have a commissioned fic to work on! 
> 
> Oh well. What can I say? I have no willpower whatsoever. Also, I really don’t understand how people can write unhappy or unresolved endings. I simply can’t. If it’s not at least hopeful, my soul doesn’t rest ;)
> 
> A few notes: I’m playing wild and loose with canon. It doesn’t make sense anyway, so… also, no Redbeard who was actually Victor Trevor. I just- too  _ morbid  _ for my taste. And it works just fine this way, I think
> 
> Anyway, without further ado, enjoy?

 

“In retrospective, I guess the decision was made the moment you both confessed. Not my best move, I think. Made it far too easy.”

John blinks awake, trying to make sense of the words. His head aches and the whole room is blurry, but the woman’s voice is perfectly clear. He closes his eyes, taking a deep breath and willing himself not to panic.

Not yet, at least.

“And brother Mycroft didn’t help, of course,” Eurus continues, undeterred by John’s lack of response. “Bloody wanker. Always so damn- self sacrificing, when it came to Sherlock.” Her tone is bitter, full of unsuppressed anger. “Precious baby brother Sherlock,” she scoffs. “I was the youngest one. Not that either could be bothered to care.”

“And here I thought me and Harry had issues,” John comments, sitting up, rubbing the back of his head. “But at least she didn’t try to kill me.”

Eurus rolls her eyes dramatically, leaning back on her seat. “You’re both too ordinary for that,” she replies, toying with the gun in her hands. John would worry, except he’s past caring now. He’s done with her and her crazy games.

“Where is Sherlock?”

She shrugs non committedly, examining the gun’s barrel. “It’s none of your concern.” She looks up, a smirk on her lips. “Are you ready for the next part of the game?”

“I’m done playing your twisted games,” John utters darkly. “If you’re going to kill me, just do it already.”

Eurus’ smile widens, her eyes shining with mischief. “Oh, I will,” she assures him darkly. “But not just yet. Where would the fun be in that?” she turns around, the back of her seat at John and he wonders if he could move fast enough to surprise her.

Considering his massive headache, he thinks the answer is “no”.

“You can come in, boys!” she calls loudly, her tone full of joy. “Dr. Watson is awake and ready to play his part,” she turns back to him once more, smirking widely. “You want to see Sherlock, yes?” John glares, knowing he doesn’t need to answer and the woman giggles girlishly. “Well, you’d better play along then.”

A group of armed men walk into the room and John lets them drag him out of the room, figuring now is not the best time to try to escape.

Although he’s not sure if such time will come.

 

* * *

 

“Where’s Sherlock?” John asks once more, growing concerned the farther they travel. “Where’s Mycroft, for that matter?”

Eurus looks at him from the corner of her eye, expression slightly vacant. She shrugs and John spares a quick glance at the men sitting at each side of him, wondering if there’s a way to make her talk.

“I never had a friend,” she murmurs after a while, her eyes fixed on the passing landscape. “I always wondered-” she clenches her jaw, looking away. “Why is that Sherlock always gets the nice things?”

John looks at her, really  _ looks at her.  _ He briefly wonders if she’s like her brothers in that sense; hiding behind self imposed barriers so people may never know the  _ real  _ her. Acting like a heartless machine, because she doesn’t know how else to interact with people.

He huffs, annoyed with himself. It’s not like it matters: she’s done horrible things, not just today and she’s evidently beyond salvation.

“A live-in,” she continues thoughtfully, tilting her head to the side. “I think I’ll get myself one. Jim did say that a pet does wonders for one’s mental stability.” She smiles, eyes shining with…  _ something _ dark and unnameable. “Not that he’d knew about that.”

The mention of Moriarty turns John’s insides into ice, but he forces himself to ignore it. There are many  _ many  _ things that are all kind of wrong with this situation, but-

“We wondered about you,” she says, startling him with how close she’s suddenly sitting. John gulps, pressing his back against the seat, heart beating erratically. “What does little Sherlock see in you? We spent at least a couple of minutes discussing theories,” she grins maniacally, pulling away once more. “But that seems to be one puzzle that will be left unanswered. Although who knows? Maybe by the time the game is over, we’ll finally have the answer.”

“You’re crazy,” John murmurs, watching her warily and Eurus laughs.

“And you’re just noticing that?” she hums, thoughtful. “Not the brightest one, are you?” she looks oddly delighted, her eyes very bright. “I’d love to have gotten to know you better, Dr. Watson. But I’m afraid those texts didn’t seem very promising.”

Oh, right. He  _ flirted _ with this madwoman. How could he forget about that?

The car comes to an abrupt halt and Eurus looks outside the window, smiling once more. “It seems we’ve reached our destination!” she informs him cheerily, pulling something out of her coat pockets. “Well, Dr. Watson, it’s been nice knowing you. I don’t think we’d ever see each other again, but think kindly of me in your last minutes.”

Before John can even come up with an answer, Eurus has leaned impossibly closer and John is vaguely aware of the needle piercing the side of his neck before the world turns black.

He’s been drugged again.

Delightful, really.

 

* * *

 

When he wakes up again, the world is dark.

For a beat, he wonders if he’s awake at all, but then he registers how cold he is and the ache of his muscles and the water and decides he’s definitely awake. He stands up quickly, or as quickly as he can and looks around, trying to get his eyes to adapt to the poor lighting.

The water reaches his waist and he knows that’s not good. He looks up, trying to make sense of where he is, but between his aching head and how damn  _ tired  _ he is, he’s having a hard time.

“Are you there yet?” Sherlock’s voice is heaven sent. Just when he was beginning to despair-

“Yeah, I’m here,” he murmurs softly, relieved despite himself.

“John!” Sherlock exclaims, surprised and John guesses he wasn’t talking to him then. He blinks, looking around once more, looking for his friend’s tall figure, but he seems to be all alone in… wherever the hell he is. “Where are you?” Sherlock demands, his voice urging him to focus.

“I don’t know. I’ve just woken up. Where are you?” he asks, forcing himself to take deep breaths. All alone here, it’ll be entirely too easy to panic and that won’t help matters at all.

“I’m in another cell,” his friend replies, soundly oddly collected. John wishes he could keep as calm. “I just spoke to the girl on the plane again. We’ve been out for hours.”

John tilts his head, thinking. Perhaps, but that doesn’t make complete sense, does it? How long- “What, she’s still up there?”

“Yes. The plane will keep flying until it runs out of fuel.”

Well, yes, but how long will the fuel last? For all they know the plane has been up for  _ hours,  _ how-?

But no. They have bigger concerns right now. “Is Mycroft with you?” Sherlock questions, sounding actually concerned and John closes his eyes. What can he answer to that? Eurus’ words on the subject weren’t exactly encouraging.

His silence, it seems, is answer enough. “Are you okay?” Sherlock questions softly, voice barely audible and John finds himself nodding, although he knows he can’t see him. “Yeah,” he replies breathlessly, even if he knows it’s not the truth.

“Alright. Well, just keep exploring. Tell me anything you can about where you are.”

John knows that now is definitely not the time to panic, but he can’t help himself. He remembers Eurus words all too clearly: he’s going to die here. In some horrid, painful way and Sherlock is going to witness it somehow, incapable of helping him.

That’s how the game is played, isn’t it?

“Sherlock, about- about the thing I said earlier-”

“Not now, John!” Sherlock exclaims, frustrated and John closes his eyes. No, now is not the time for it, but there’ll be no later. If he doesn’t speak now-

“Sherlock-”

But Sherlock is arguing with someone else and John wonders how that scene is playing. Are he and Eurus in the same room? Or is she still using a screen to communicate with him?

Why does it matter?

He sighs, leaning back on the wall, looking up once more. The moon is peeking from behind some clouds and John is finally able to make sense of where he is. “I’m in a well,” he informs Sherlock as water starts to pour in. 

Drowned. Not a very nice, painless way to go.

Not what he would have chosen, certainly.

He can hear a woman singing and he hears Sherlock’s desperation, but none of that means much to him. Not now. He thinks briefly of Rosie and how she’s going to grow up alone now, all because-

“John!” Sherlock’s yell brings him back to the present, pushing his fears and regrets to the back of his mind. 

“Yeah, it’s flooding. The well is flooding.”

Sherlock makes an inhuman sound and John closes his eyes, keeping tears at bay. “Try as long as possible not to drown.” Sherlock tells him and John has to chuckle, because  _ of course  _ he’ll try that.

But it’s not going to make any difference.

“I’m going to find you!” Sherlock promises vehemently. “I’m finding you!”

“Well, hurry up because I don’t have long!” he yells, looking around for some way to escape. The walls are slippery, of course, but maybe-

Better die trying to escape than just stand there, waiting for the inevitable.

“It was a clever little puzzle, wasn’t it?” Eurus is saying and John hates the idea that he’ll die listening to her taunt Sherlock,  _ his best friend, his... everything  _ and that both are incapable of making her stop. “Why can’t you work it out, Sherlock? I guess you’re not as smart as you thought, huh?”

“Sherlock,” he decides to interrupt, because while he understands this is not the time for this conversation, it’s looking more and more improbable they’ll have time for it later. “I- I’m sorry. About everything.”

“John-”

“I love you. I think I always have but I- I never- it never seemed to be the right time. First because we had just met and you said you were married to your work and then- then there was too much going on and you had made my life so much more bearable that I couldn’t- I didn’t dare to compromise what we had. And then there was a madman after you and then you met a woman that was perfect for you and then there was the madman again and then you were gone and then there was Mary and I- I-”

“John-”

“You are the best man I’ve ever known. And it’s been  _ a privilege  _ to be your friend, Sherlock Holmes. You saved me in many ways and I- I’ve paid you terribly-”

“John-”

“And I don’t deserve your love. But if there was time, I’d gladly try to be worthy of it. To be worthy of you.”

“John, there’ll be time-”

“Look after Rosie for me, yes? She’s going to need you. And- you’ve lost this battle, but you’d better win the war, Sherlock Holmes. For me.”

“Don’t you dare to die on me now, John! Not after that!”

“Goodbye, Sherlock,” he murmurs, taking off his earpiece and throwing it away, incapable of keep on hearing Eurus’ words and Sherlock’s desperation. It might be selfish to leave him alone like that, but that’s the story of their relationship.

Funny, he always thought Sherlock was the selfish one.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So… thoughts anyone?
> 
> I did say this was an exercise in self torture and well… here we are. Although I’m not sure if the last part was as emotional as I wanted. I’m bad at  _ feelings _ . Like John and Sherlock, I prefer not to talk about them :P
> 
> I’ve enjoyed writing Eurus a bit more- let’s say crazy than what she was in canon. I’d like to think that I’m basing her on Jim and that it’s coming across that way, but I don’t know, honestly.
> 
> Thanks for reading and let me know what you thought?


	3. Winning war

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A not so perfect ending

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here’s the last chapter! It was surprisingly fun to write this little thing, even if, you know, it was pretty emotional too, but I’m rather happy with what I did ;)  
> So, without further ado, enjoy?

“Ah, good evening Dr. Watson. Kind of you to join us in the world of the living once more.”

John closes his eyes again, telling himself it’s all a nightmare and he’ll wake up soon enough. There’s a chuckle and he’s forced to admit that no, he’s not dreaming at all.

He opens his eyes again, glaring at Eurus. The woman remains perfectly unperturbed, happily noting down his vitals on the chart she’s carrying with her, as if she was an actual nurse in an actual hospital.

Wait.

He looks around. They’re in a hospital, he realizes. A real one. How- when- what happened?

“Confused?” Eurus asks, placing the chart on top of the bed, turning to look at him closely. She looks oddly normal, with her long hair pulled back into a sensible ponytail, discreet makeup and the typical nurse uniform. She smiles, almost fondly, but a shiver runs down John’s spine and he attempts to sit up, but she calmly places a hand over his chest and pushes him down so he’s lying on his back once more. “Now, now, no reason to panic,” she says very reasonably and John gulps, scared despite himself. “It’s all fine. Or rather, all it’s going to be fine. For a while, at least.”

What happened? He remembers being in the well and talking to Sherlock. He remembers the water rising and his desperate attempts to climb the wall. He remembers the oppressing feeling in his chest as breathing started to become harder. He remembers the overwhelming fear, the panic, the hurt-

He had been certain he was going to die. By all means, he should have died. But something happened.

He looks at Eurus, who’s still smiling disturbingly at him. She looks content, perfectly at ease. So obviously, whatever happened was within her plans. It doesn’t make sense, of course, but then this whole mad plot of hers hasn’t made it either.

Which just makes the whole situation far scarier.

“Where’s Sherlock?” he asks, deciding to focus on the important things. Sherlock is, as always, one of his top priorities.

She smiles once more, moving away and John finds himself breathing a bit easier. “Sherlock should be here in a bit. He’ll explain.” She seems to think better of it, before shrugging. “Probably.”

That doesn’t answer a damn thing, but John isn’t about to beg for answers, not from her. She seems to know that too, for she offers him a smug smile before heading towards the door. “Goodbye for now, Dr. Watson. See you around!” and she’s gone with that, leaving John alone.

For now, at least.

 

* * *

 

He doesn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have for the next time he opens his eyes the room is bathed in sunlight. He blinks and then looks around, taking advantage of the natural light to get a better look of his surroundings.

It truly seems like a real hospital, although he wouldn’t discard it being an elaborate prop just yet. Better not to trust anyone and if someone gets too close to him-

He sighs, closing his eyes once more. With the way his whole body aches, he’s not exactly confident he could manage to escape, but he supposes it’s worth a try. He’s not physically hurt and he’s not drugged, so he thinks this might be his best shot at running away.

If only he knew where Sherlock is-

And even more troubling. Is he alright?

Before he can work himself into a right panic wondering about his friend’s fate, there’s a light knock on the open door and he looks up to find Sherlock standing at the threshold. His heart skips a beat and he can feel his eyes filling up with tears, but he can’t bring himself to care. Sherlock is here and he looks fine and that’s all that matters.

His friend offers him a tired smile, but he does look relieved. Gingerly, he makes his way closer to the bed, coming to sit on the chair next to it, eyes fixed on John the whole time. He seems like he can’t quite believe he’s here and that he’s fine enough, staring at him as if he’s worried he’ll disappear if he gets distracted for a moment.

John can’t say he doesn’t share the sentiment.

Sherlock takes one his hands gently, as if afraid he’ll break. John offers him an encouraging smile, squeezing his hand and Sherlock smiles a bit watery before looking away for a bit, to put himself together once more.

For the longest time, neither speaks, both content with just enjoying the other’s presence. But John has questions, many of them and there’s a conversation they need to have, no matter how nervous it makes him.

“What happened?” he decides to ask first, figuring it might be easiest thing to answer. Sherlock looks at him once more, chewing gently on his lip. “I thought- I remember drowning. I don’t- how-?”

Sherlock takes a deep breath, closing his eyes and looking pained. “You’re not going to like it.”

No, John can already tell he won’t. Still- “I want to know.”

Sherlock nods and begins his tale, even if he looks reluctant.

But John just can’t live with not knowing.

 

* * *

 

_ Having finally figured out his sister’s puzzle, Sherlock doesn’t even stop to think about anything. John is drowning and he needs to save him, so everything else becomes background noise in his head. _

_ Which is why when he storms into Eurus’ old room and finds her there, sitting comfortably on the floor, he’s more than a little surprised. He was hoping for the ultimate clue and instead he finds himself back into his sister’s presence, which suggests there’s yet another game to be played before he can get to saving John. _

_ But they don’t have time for that. _

_ “Where’s John?” _

_ Eurus smiles maniacally, playing with something in her hands. Sherlock peers at the item curiously, his mind trying to make sense of everything, looking for clues and not finding any. Nothing makes sense and he’s getting more than a little frustrated. _

_ “I solved the puzzle!” he exclaims, desperate and angry. “Tell me where John is!” _

_ Eurus shows him what she’s holding. It’s a tape recorder and Sherlock’s heart is beating entirely too loudly. The idea that he has been listening to a recording of his friend all along is  _ crazy,  _ it wouldn’t make much sense, and yet- _

**Help me. Please, I’m on a plane and everyone’s asleep** .

_ Sherlock stares, his heart dropping to his feet. “There wasn’t any girl in any plane.” _

_ Eurus smirks. “Couldn’t you figured it out earlier? What girl of that age doesn’t know which airport they departed from, nor the destination?” She places the tape recorder next to her, standing up. “Emotions are such messy things, don’t you agree? Completely bothersome. Caring won’t help to save people and yet, look at you. You care so much.” _

_ He’s holding her by the shoulders and shaking her with a little too much strength, but he barely notices. He won’t waste more time in her games. “Where’s John?!” _

_ “Puff. People get so sentimental about their pets,” she comments off handedly, completely unbothered by Sherlock’s tight hold on her shoulders. She smirks, knowing Sherlock is remembering another conversation where the same words were uttered. “Funny, that. I got along better with a man I never met before than with my two older brothers.” _

_ Sherlock bites his lip, unsure of what to say to that. He doesn’t remember her, even after all this and- “Brother Mycroft was right,” she tells him, her smile cruel and devoid of any sympathy. “You can always find another pet to impress with your little deductions.” _

_ Sherlock’s self control snaps then and he pushes her against the wall, still holding her by the shoulders. “Where’s John?” he hisses darkly, growing more and more unnerved with each passing second. They don’t have time for this and Eurus doesn’t seem in any rush to give him any answers any time soon. _

_ “Why would I tell you?” she asks, eyes dancing with amusement. “What’s in for me?” _

_ Sherlock growls, letting go of her to start pacing around the room, pulling at his hair. Eurus let’s out a mad giggle, evidently pleased with his despair. “What do you want?” he asks defeatedly, his heart heavy. There’s no time, John needs him and he- _

_ Eurus is looking at him speculatively. _

_ “What would you be willing to give?” she asks after a beat, expression blank now and that somehow is even scarier. _

_ “Anything,” Sherlock replies plainly and Eurus beams brightly at him. _

_ “I hoped you’d say so.” _

 

* * *

 

“What did you offer her, Sherlock?” John asks, dread feeling his every pore. Sherlock looks away, chewing on his lip once more and John sighs, squeezing his hand reassuringly. “Sherlock?”

“I promised to keep on playing.”

John closes his eyes. He thought as much, but- “Sherlock-”

“What was I supposed to do?” his friend demands angrily, standing up abruptly. “Let you drown?”

“Yes! If it meant this madness would stop, then yes!”

“How can you say that?” Sherlock demands. “Haven’t I made it clear I can’t live with you? That my life makes no sense without you in it? How can you even think I could have let that happen?”

Sherlock’s expression is haunted and a bit horrified, as if he’s regretting his words as soon as he says them. John looks away, heart aching for how obviously affected his best friend is. “I’m not worth it, Sherlock.”

“Don’t you dare to say that,” Sherlock hisses. “You know it’s not true.”

John sighs once more. For the longest time neither speaks, both gathering their thoughts. “Now she’s free to come after us at any given moment. And not just us-”

“I sort of- we agreed on some ground rules,” Sherlock interrupts him, looking miserable. “She agreed to leave Rosie out of it. Same goes for Mrs. Hudson, Molly and Lestrade.”

John blinks. “Can we trust her?”

Sherlock shrugs. “What choice do we have?” he sits down once more, grabbing John’s hand again. “I’m sorry, John. I know- I know I shouldn’t have, but I can’t lose you. Not now. Not ever.”

John nods. He understands, of course, but- “What about Mycroft?” he asks, noticing he’s not among the people in Sherlock’s list who are off-limits.

“She’s our sister,” Sherlock replies softly. “She wants us both to play.”

God, this is all kinds of messed up. “He’s alive, then?”

A sigh. “Yes. Not in very good shape, but- the doctors say he’ll recover.”

All things considered, John supposes that’s good enough. “Alright. I- I don’t like it, of course, but I suppose- we’ll make do. We always do.”

Sherlock offers him a hesitant smile, squeezing his hand once more and John smiles back, before leaning down on the cushions and closing his eyes, feeling tired once more. “You should rest,” Sherlock murmurs gently, his thumb drawing circles over John’s knuckles. “I’ll be here when you wake up again.”

John supposes he could do with some rest.

There are many things left to discuss, after all.

 

* * *

 

“There’s something else we need to discuss.”

John nods, but doesn’t look in Sherlock’s direction. When he had woken up from his last nap, he had found himself surrounded by worried friends and so he had happily postponed their very much needed conversation once more. Now though-

“About- about what we both said-” Sherlock takes a deep breath, willing himself to carry on even if every word pains him in unnameable ways. “John, I want you to know that we can completely forget about it. I mean- I won’t mention it again, if that’s what you want. I understand those were extenuating circumstances and so it’s- I don’t expect anything to change.” He looks away, gulping audibly. “I understand it’s not something you’d have said if our lives hadn’t been at stake and so it’d be unfair-” he makes a pause, composing himself. “I don’t expect anything. Nothing has to change.”

John looks at his friend, at his defeated but resignated stance and understands this could really be the end of it. That if he so chooses, he can go back to ignoring this-  _ thing  _ between them. That if he so chooses, Sherlock will remain his best and most trustworthy friend, that he’ll never ask for anything other than what they had before. That if he so chooses, they can go back to the way things were.

But that’s not exactly the truth, is it? Now the cat is out of the bag and he can’t ignore it any longer.

“I’ve treated you abominably,” he murmurs softly and Sherlock looks up sharply, ready to protest. “No, let me speak.” Sherlock nods, tense and scared and John hates that he has made his friend feel this uncertain about their whole relationship. “After you came back I never quite- I don’t think I ever really forgave you, because I never allowed myself to think much about it. I couldn’t, not without acknowledging all this  _ feelings  _ I had buried deep within myself. I couldn’t do it because if I did, I knew I couldn’t go on as I had; I knew things would change. And I- when I choose to stay with Mary, despite…  _ everything,  _ I did it for Rosie, yes, but also because I didn’t- it’s not the same, Sherlock. What I felt for her, even when we married, it was never the same I felt for you. I couldn’t- I simply couldn’t handle it.”

Sherlock isn’t looking at him and John is thankful for that, because he’s not sure he could continue if he was. He can’t handle Sherlock’s intense stare and talk about  _ his feelings,  _ he would never say everything he wants to under his friend’s scrutinizing gaze. “I made do, as I always do when my emotions become too much, by basically ignoring them. I was a mess and I knew it, but pretending I was fine seemed so much easier than actually trying to work out what I really wanted.” Another pause and John forces himself to continue, even if his heart feels like it’s breaking into a million pieces. “And then Mary died. And it was so much easier to blame you for everything: not just for her death, but for the mess my heart and mind had become. All the anger, all the pain, I simply- I thought I hated you.” He hears Sherlock’s sharp intake of breath and he reaches for his friend’s hand, not allowing him to run, not now. “But I didn’t. I could never. I hated myself for being a coward and for hurting you, for hurting us. But I love you, Sherlock. Always have, probably always will.”

Sherlock pulls his hand away, covering his face with both hands. John considers reaching for him once more, but thinks better of it. He supposes it’s only right to let him process things at his own pace, in his own terms.

“John,” Sherlock finally murmurs, voice wrecked, eyes red rimmed. “Oh, John,” he repeats, before throwing his arms around his friend’s shoulders, holding him close. “We’ve both been so cruel to each other’s hearts.”

Perhaps. But John still thinks he was the one who messed them up. “I love you,” he murmurs, pressing his lips to the top of Sherlock’s head. “I love you so much.”

As much as he wishes that was it, that his simple confession was enough to make things right between them, he knows it’s not.

But it’s a start.

 

* * *

 

“I was thinking that once we get around rebuilding Baker Street- I’d like to move back.” 

Sherlock hums from his place next to John. The bed is far too small and far too uncomfortable for them both to share it, but right now they can’t bear being apart. John feels too raw right now and he simply wants them to be as close as possible.

“I’d be very happy if you came back home, John,” the taller man murmurs, running his fingers down his spine. “You and Rosie, of course.”

John smiles, pressing yet another kiss against the top of Sherlock’s head. “We’ll be fine, Sherlock. We’ll make it work.”

“I know,” his companion murmurs, looking up at him, a content smile on his lips. “Things won’t be peaceful-”

“They never are when you’re involved.”

“But we’ll be happy.”

John smiles fondly, running his fingers through Sherlock’s curls as he has always longed to do. “Yes. We’ll be.”

Of course there’ll always be the threat of some crazy criminal, not to mention Sherlock’s mad sister, but John thinks they’ll really be happy. 

The two of them against the world once more.

As it was always supposed to be.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It later occurred me that if this was going to be a fix it, I needed to start the story at the beginning of TFP. But this was meant to be just an alternate scene that then turned into a whole short fic and well… I did the best I could with what we had in canon, with some fixes here and there. Hopefully it was enjoyable (and logical) enough? I know there are some things left unexplained but overall… I think it works. Even if, you know, some things are all kind of messed up.
> 
> I usually don’t write overly emotional scenes where people _ actually discuss feelings _ , preferring to leave implied they did. But well- I rather liked those last two scenes. I hope they weren’t terribly disappointing?
> 
> Thanks for reading! Pretty please let me know what you thought? 

**Author's Note:**

> So… thoughts anyone?  
> This is a first for me! No happy endings in sight!  
> But well… I enjoyed it. I think the scene had a lot of potential and even though I don’t personally ship Sherlolly, the scene hurt so damn much. And the fact that the writers think that Molly simply got over it frustrates me and angers me to no end. We needed some resolution, damn it!  
> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you thought, pretty please?


End file.
